


Breaking Point

by Pleasant_Boy



Series: La Justice [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Dissociation, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Spoilers, the point I'm getting at here is it's rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pleasant_Boy/pseuds/Pleasant_Boy
Summary: Being in the Metaverse made him bolder.He was still himself, of course, just with an only-slightly cheesy code name and a very stylish outfit. But Akira felt like he imagined an actor must, using part of himself to become a new and practiced role. He could be—hehadto be—someone cockier, braver, more aggressive. Joker was every part of him that didn't fear repercussions or consequence.So it was much easier for Akira, playing the role of Joker, to grab Akechi's arm as they walked through the Palace, tired of being ignored.Akechi tries to avoid Akira after their encounter in Leblanc, but Akira has never been one to give up easily. It all comes to a head—explosively, violently, ruinously. Set afterPretty When You Cry, but can be read as a standalone story.





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> This contains huge plot spoilers! If you haven't passed 11/21, or beaten the game entirely, come back after!

They couldn't exactly avoid each other after that—as much as Akechi might have wished they could. Even on the best days, he was always aloof during the group meetups in Leblanc, electing to stand by the window and idly flick through his phone instead of sitting around with the others. For the past few meetings he hadn't even _glanced_ over at Akira's futon, although Akira was fairly certain nobody else noticed. Or maybe he wasn't even intentionally avoiding looking at all—maybe Akira was reading too much into things.

Akechi's eyes met his and the detective instantly looked away as though he'd been physically struck.

* * *

Being in the Metaverse made him bolder.

He was still himself, of course, just with an only-slightly cheesy code name and a very stylish outfit. But Akira felt like he imagined an actor must, using part of himself to become a new and practiced role. He could be—he _had_ to be—someone cockier, braver, more aggressive. Joker was every part of him that didn't fear repercussions or consequence.

So it was much easier for Akira, playing the role of Joker, to grab Akechi's arm as they walked through Sae's Palace, tired of being ignored.

* * *

Crow really _was_ going to break his fingers this time if Joker touched him like that again. He turned, mouth open slightly, looking stunned at the sheer insolence of Joker's red glove on his white shirt.

_Stop it. Compose yourself._

"Is something wrong, Leader?" Crow asked, trying to hide the anger in his chest by putting a false smile on his face.

"You tell me," Joker said, his grip not easing up even slightly. He stared from behind his mask, expression unreadable.

"Can't this wait until we're out of the Metaverse? We don't have a lot of time to waste," Crow lied. They were making great progress, and they both knew it. And if they were going to talk, a Safe Room was the perfect place to do it, both of them all alone and brimming over with emotion.

 _Talk._ Sure.

A warm, nervous heat coiled in Crow's stomach. Being alone together with Joker was more dangerous than anything else in the Palace.

Joker leaned back against the door, blocking Crow's way out, and folded his arms. "You can't avoid me forever," he said at last.

 _Yes I can,_ Akechi wanted to snarl. Once he was dead and gone and once he'd finally, finally won, he would never have to see Akira ever again. Would never need to be confronted head-on with a reminder of everything he could have been, if only—

_Stop it._

It would be pointless to deny that he'd been avoiding him, so he didn't. "It's not affecting our progress through the Palace," Crow said. "Or my ability to fight. I don't see a problem."

"It _is_ a problem," Joker insisted, and he stood up straight. "You're one of us now, and I need you to—"

"I am not."

Crow's icy tone made Joker's thoughts stop instantly. There was an emotion there he'd never heard from him before—an anger, cold and hard and distant. Such a final, firm declaration: I am not one of you. I never will be one of you.

Please stop trying to make me one of you.

Joker moved aside as Crow reached for the door handle, only to grab his arm once more, with a surprising gentleness. Crow turned his head to glare, but couldn't muster up the strength to make it as convincing as it needed to be.

"What can I do to make you one of us?" Akira asked, his voice too quiet and the look in his eyes too hurt. Akechi recoiled.

_Does he know?_

With his heart racing in a panicked staccato, Akechi opened the door and left to regroup with the others as soon as he could.

He had to stop being alone with Akira.

* * *

Of course, he wasn't nearly so lucky. No, luck was something much more suited to Akira, after all. Resentment pooled in Akechi's stomach, ugly and heavy. The more time he spent with the Phantoms, the more it grew, a carnivorous flower nurtured by their friendship. And although he'd tried to stop being alone with Akira—tried _very hard_ —it had only worked for so long. 

Joker needed him, and only him, to accompany him inside the casino. As loath as Crow was to agree, the reasoning was sound—the pair of them could move faster alone, and they'd reached a crucial stage in their mission. There could be no setbacks now.

So he allowed himself to follow at Akira's heels like, he thought with no small amount of disgust, a trained pet, or maybe a guard dog. They silently moved through the dingy back hallways of Sae's Palace, always just out of sight of any guards. The security room they needed to access was close by, according to their map.

Crow had been about to move again, so desperate not to be as close to Joker as infiltration demanded, when footsteps echoed down the corridor. Joker grabbed Crow roughly and hauled him back into the shadows, pressing their bodies together. They barely breathed. Akechi was certain the pounding of his heart was so loud that it would give away their position in their alcove. "Don't move," Joker whispered, the hot breath on his neck making Crow's skin crawl.

He didn't. And eventually, the guard circled away to continue his patrol.

 _Don't tell me what to do,_ Crow had wanted to spit, especially since it was something so obvious. _He knows I'm not stupid, so why—_

There was a little hint of a smile on Joker's lips in the darkness.

He'd just wanted to say it, but not only that—to say it that close together, where Akechi couldn't leave, where he'd have to feel his breath and hear his mouth move against his ear.

"Let's go," Joker said with an incline of his head, as if wondering why Crow was just stood there staring at him. "We still have a job to do."

* * *

It happened again on their way back.

Akechi's revulsion at his close proximity to Akira made him get careless—again. Because the longer they stayed pressed up against one another in the darkness, the more time he had to think about what had happened at Leblanc, in the attic he hated. Joker's arms, wrapped around the small of his back like a lover, too intimate to brush off as hiding. Akira's mouth, warm and wet, eagerly sucking as he looked up with unrestrained lust in his eyes.

Crow had lurched away too soon, stumbling out of their cover and directly into one of the casino's monstrous bouncers.

"Crow!"

Even as Joker rushed to his defense, Crow's anger only grew—at himself for being foolish and letting this get to him, yes, but mostly at Akira for putting them in this situation at all. It was his fault Akechi was so on-edge, so eager to escape.

 _You wanted to break his fingers and you settled for fucking his throat,_ his brain said nastily. Somehow, that could be Akira's fault, too. Everything, all of this, more than even Akechi knew, everything was Akira Kurusu's fault, and in that moment, watching the person he hated most save his life, a part of his impeccable composure broke.

As Joker dispatched the shadowy guards with a characteristic flourish of his dagger, he clearly hadn't been expecting a punch to the jaw from Akechi, who took no small amount of pleasure in the fact that he'd _literally_ wiped the smirk off Joker's face the way he'd always wanted to.

Joker staggered back, holding his jaw, looking at Crow with wide, disbelieving eyes.

That didn't last long.

He pounced, slamming Crow back into the storage closet they'd emerged from. The door closed behind him.

They scuffled in the dark, grunting through gritted teeth as they took one another's punches. Joker fumbled for Crow's mask and ripped it off, sending it clattering loudly to the floor. The metal shelving pushed up against Akechi's back, bruising and unyielding, as Akira grabbed his shoulders.

 _"Goro!"_ Joker snapped, and hearing him discard his code name, much less use his _given_ name, startled Akechi into a momentary stillness.

Their breathing was too loud, too hot in the tiny dark room.

Akechi couldn't talk about this. He couldn't bear it. If his cover wasn't already blown, this would be the final nail in the coffin. Panicking, mind racing, he grabbed Joker by the wide collar of his jacket and pulled him forward, gracelessly mashing their lips together. The kiss was all clacking teeth and clumsy tongues, and Akechi hated the way it instantly made him start getting hard.

"Shut up," Akechi whispered. It wasn't a demand; it was a plea.

Joker didn't have much choice but to comply, because Crow's tongue was in his mouth again, licking at his teeth. He pressed forward, one gloved hand tangling in the long brown hair at the nape of his neck. The pressure on both sides felt good—he wanted to be squeezed into nothing, crushed until his bones snapped, until there was no longer a trace of the thing that had once been Goro Akechi. 

Joker nipped at his neck, his jaw. Crow reached up to unbutton the high collar of his jacket, exposing his throat, and Joker's head dipped lower, black curls brushing against Akechi's chin. This outfit didn't fit right. Taking it off was more than welcomed. He closed his eyes as Joker's tongue traced lines across his collarbones, stopping here and there to bite down and suck. His hair smelled faintly of coffee and curry and Crow turned his face away, as though he were desperate to breathe in the stagnant air of the Palace instead.

"Return the favor for me," Joker whispered, putting his hands firmly on Crow's shoulders and pushing down. "From the other day." His eyes gleamed in the dark.

Akechi landed on his knees a little too hard, wincing at the impact of the concrete, and mouthed at Joker's cock through his pants even as Joker undid his belt. There were no teasing kisses up the length of it, no messy licks the way Akira had given him. Crow took him in his mouth immediately, and the low moan Joker made filled him with revulsion and delight in equal measure.

Spreading his hands on Joker's thighs, Akechi's cheeks hollowed as he sucked, trying to take as much of him in his mouth as he could. Joker's hands found his hair again and gripped it so much more gently than Crow needed him to. He was far, _far_ too aware of exactly what he was doing—sucking off the leader of the Phantom Thieves in a dingy supply closet. 

This wasn't what he needed.

Crow pulled his head back with a wet pop, and Joker had doubtlessly been about to ask him what was wrong—which wasn't what Akechi needed, he needed him to just _push him back down_ —when he said, his voice ragged, "Fuck me."

Joker blinked, tilted his head in the dark, regarding him like a cat would a toy, before gripping the epaulets on Crow's uniform and tossing him down onto the floor.

Akechi scrambled to undo his pants, crisp white fabric dragging against the dirty floor. He'd scarcely gotten them past his hips when Joker grabbed him again, moving to haul his legs up onto his shoulders.

"No, not—" Crow started, and Joker froze like he'd been stung. Shifting his position, Crow moved to his hands and knees.

He didn't want to look at him.

Joker's cock, slick with spit and precome, pressed against Crow's entrance, and his whole body tensed.

There was a moment of waiting, too long.

"You want it hard, don't you?"

Crow barely had time to nod before Joker leaned over him, driving inside too fast, shoving his face down against the floor, and the cry that wrenched itself out of him was entirely involuntary. The ache blocked out everything—what he was doing, who he was doing it with—and Crow's brain turned itself off, only focusing on the white-hot mix of pain and pleasure as Akira ruthlessly fucked him.

The right side of his face scraped against the ground and his hands balled up in their gloves. He was too far gone to care about the noises he was making, the gasps that kept coming, shuddering, throaty breaths in time with Joker's thrusts. But Joker's free hand moved beneath him to stroke his dick, and Crow was too aware again, the bright red glove on his aching cock a shameful reminder of exactly what was happening.

 _"Harder,"_ he hissed, that sweet nice-boy countenance somewhere far gone, "or is that the best you can do?"

From behind him, something shifted. Fabric rustled as Joker leaned back to adjust his angle. And then the hand on Akechi's head was replaced with the sole of Joker's boot as he drove in deeper.

Crow screamed, back arching, as Joker slammed into him harder than he thought possible. The low heel of Joker's shoe pressed painfully against his ear, but even still, he heard the Phantom Thief laugh. Joker was talking, the low murmurs of his voice blending in with the blood rushing in Crow's ears, with the sound of their skin slapping together. Crow's eyes squeezed shut. Spit pooled between his cheek and the cold concrete floor, his own moans sounding so obscene and desperate he wouldn't have believed the sounds were coming from him at all.

This. This animalistic mindlessness was what Akechi needed.

This time he was barely even aware of Joker touching his cock, and it scarcely took a minute before Akechi came with a sob, come spattering against the floor, against those red gloves. Joker's hands moved back to his hips, wiping Crow's own come off on his thigh— _good, yes, I'd never let gutter trash like him do that, don't make me go back to being a person_ —and he drove in harder, coming inside him with a husky moan.

This time the regret didn't sink in quite so fast. Akechi shuddered and struggled to find his breath again. Joker was already buckling his pants back up, straightening out his coat.

_Please don't ask me if I'm—_

"—okay?" Akira whispered, his voice hoarse, gently touching Akechi's lower back in the darkness.

The empty eyes of the discarded tengu mask on the floor stared back at him, full of silent accusations.

Akechi nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and remember not to jackhammer someone's ass without letting them prep first


End file.
